Our Time is Running Out
by shadowsfromthedream
Summary: When he saw that intoxicating look in her eyes, he was fascinated. It made him want to play a game. A dangerous one, that is. One whose final they would switch roles to finish it all.
1. Chapter 1

Helloooooooo!

So I am writing another multichapter! My second! I feel so proud of myself for sticking with writing this long. Usually I get bored of something within a small span of time. Haha.

This was an idea that I've always wanted to write out with Skip Beat. If I do this correctly, I think it will put a good twist on the original story. The song that spurred this idea is Time is Running Out by Muse. A frickin' amazing song.

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><p><span>Disclaimer:<span> I do not own Skip Beat or any of the characters. Nor do I own the lyrics to the song Time is Running Out by Muse.

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><p><em>I think I'm drowning,<em>

_Asphyxiated._

_I wanna break this spell_

_You've created._

His microwave oven beeped loudly, resounding through his first floor of the huge house and into his ears. The wave was processed by his subconscious, yet his conscious was far too focused on the large flat screen TV. He had not moved from his frozen position since he had heard the program was to be showing next.

He drowned in the revel he was getting from that icy stare that glared through the screen. It was so intimidating, nerve wracking, nightmare causing, and so... So asphyxiating.

She sucked him in with those eyes, drowned him in the currents of her cold anger. The madness in her eyes sent shivers down his spine, terrifying, body freezing, intoxicating...

The victim in front of her cowers from sheer fear, truly afraid about what the insane yet terrifyingly beautiful goddess of death in front of him.

The blood-chilling stare is unwavering as she absently reaches for a dagger from her belt. Unsheathing the blade, the scrape of cold steel sends a strange feeling to the core of one's being.

She plays with the dagger, golden eyes that held no warmth boring into the soul. She reaches out with it to the man, who shuffles back with a shuddering breath.

The escape is made impossible by the point of the dagger pressed against his neck.

She purrs in a scarily seductive voice, "We don't want to escape, now, do we?"

The man is too afraid to answer. He gulps, the impending silence broken by the sound as his Adam's apple scrapes the sharp blade. Crimson falls onto the goddess' pale hands, faulting the skin. Her eyes brighten as she feels the warmth of each individual drop fade slowly.

"We could have so much fun." She says in that transfixing voice that makes you want to run away and at the same time have her so close as you touch each other lustfully.

The dagger lowers to his arm. Fear and fascination is in the man's eyes as he watches her carve into his own arm.

Blood of two colors begins to splatter the old wooden floorboards.

He lets out a yelp.

Suddenly, her wrist snaps, flicking the dagger to land with a thunk between the eyes. His eyes close immediately.

She whispers, "It was a silent game, my good sir."

The words sent shivers once again to dash up and down his spine.

_I wanna play the game_

_I want the friction_

He was fascinated with this woman who displayed cold murder with ease, like it was nothing. She cast a spell on him those cold eyes that froze the fibres of his being in their motions.

He wanted to see all of her other expressions.

He wanted to play the game, and feel the scared friction in his inner core.

He wanted the same feeling to run through her, but that would be saved for last.

It was a game, after all.

He was asphyxiated, after all.

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><p>Hah, I have listened to that song so many times now. It has this really desperate feel to it that I love.<p>

Less than three,

shadowsfromthedream


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry about the lateness of the update. I ruined my iPod with nail polish remover (acetone is plastic's WORST enemy) which I do all of my writing and editing on. And then I had to find all of the old files from my stories and put them back in. I also lost all of my previous work on the chapter.

So yeah, gomen.

I fixed the summary if you hadn't noticed, because... It sucked. I was in a rush, and I got into whatever-comes-to-mind-is-put-down-oh-look-that-has-a-remote-similarity-to-the-story mode. Hopefully(?) it's better.

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><p>Kyoko vigorously rubbed her temple in an attempt to reach the dull headache that was beginning to fester inside her brain.<p>

Her role was proving to be rather difficult. The cold, unfeeling hatred in her character's eyes was not an easy thing to portray, since it made it necessary to muster quite a bit of anger and sadness.

Sometimes she would end up in a perpetual bad mood for the rest of the day, the killing aura around her sending people running from her.

The director also wanted to see the full capabilities of Mogami Kyoko. All he had given her was a general outline of the plot, and she was on her own from there.

It was quite a handful.

Despite everything, she enjoyed the role. Any advancement she could make in her skills as an actress she considered good, and if this wasn't advancement in acting, she didn't know what else was.

The first episode of the series had just aired on television. The public had gone crazy after watching it, fascinated with the powerful killer so different from her last role in which she played a graceful princess. That latter had earned her quite a bit of attention. Everyone now claimed she was a diamond that only needed a little polishing for her beauty to show.

And so, when her new show came out, it was quite popular.

A masculine voice took her from her thoughts.

"Mogami-san? There was a note left for you, in the dressing room."

Thoroughly confused, and too busy to notice that cap over the man's face, effectively concealing it, she wondered out loud. "A note? From who?"

"I don't know."

Her footsteps were loud in the black, hard heeled boots she had to wear for her character. The dangerously sexy look was also the reason why she was wearing a skin-tight, revealing corset under a leather jacket. Her face became bright red as she thought of how her clothes looked.

Definitely not her normal wear.

She was snapped from her embarrassment as she reached the door to her dressing room.

She felt something was not right.

Ah, well, probably just her being weird.

She unlocked the door, and found that she could not open it. Five minutes were spent throwing her weight against the door.

Finally, it had moved enough for her to squeeze through. Rubbing a now-bruised shoulder and flush on face renewed, she winced as the lock scraped her back.

All the color drained from her face at the sight that greeted her upon entering the room.

A cold droplet of sweat fell down her cheek, then beaded on her chin.

A freezing breeze from the broken window that let in the biting wintry air from the snow-capped outdoors.

A chair was in front of the door, effectively blocking it. Her makeup she had earlier fantasied about was on the floor, foundation staining the blue carpet with a nude color.

Her room had been torn apart.

On the dressing table, shards of a broken mirror shone with droplets of water from the glass of water that had been spilled.

On the leftover mirror was writing, in a red color similar to the crimson of blood.

_I wanna play the game._

A shiver wandered down her spine, lingering on her petrified nerves and the signals of them terrifying her further.

She heard a noise. She jumped at it, and then turned to see a paper flapping in the wintry wind.

It was computer processed.

_Yeah, you will be the death of me._

_Bury it_

_I won't let you bury it._

Her eyes only saw the word death.

Her knees buckled from beneath her.

Her mind was too fogged by fear to pay heed to the cuts grating themselves into the soft pale skin of her legs.

Her blood was cold.

A head of long black hair poked itself around the door.

"Kyoko, what's taking you so long? Seriously..." Her breath was stolen at the scene of wreckage and her friend in the middle of it, looking traumatized.

A weak voice managed, cracking with the scared feeling within her. "Moko...san..."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of a man's lips, though no one could see his silent pleasure of what he had caused.

The game had begun.

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><p>After writing that, I realized I have no idea what kind of idea this is. It's... Depressing, to say the least. Makes me want to go write something blindingly happy, like some uber cute fluff or something.<p>

I know this supposed to scary, but... Jeez. I feel so scared (like something's going to jump out at me) and like my legs are actually cut.


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